


A Dream Come True

by Shamione



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Cunnilingus, Domestic Fluff, F/M, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, I Tried, I couldn't escape the angst, I hope it's good, I'm scared, Light Angst, Marriage Proposal, POV Hermione Granger, Picnics, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Seriously the fluffiest thing I've ever written, Shameless Smut, Smut, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Vaginal Sex, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff, i got carried away, treehouse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:54:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28992519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shamione/pseuds/Shamione
Summary: Valentine's Day - a holiday Hermione Jean Granger had, at one time, utterly abhorred. Though today, she couldn't stop herself from fidgeting with excitement over the prospect of her date mere moments away. Her teenage years hadn't been kind to her on the day of Faunus' festival, but this year, none of that mattered. This year, she had Charlie Weasley. And he has a special night planned for the two of them.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Charlie Weasley
Comments: 22
Kudos: 84
Collections: Rare Pairs RHM Read for LoveFest, With Love Weasley





	A Dream Come True

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [With_Love_Weasley](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/With_Love_Weasley) collection. 



> **Prompt:** Character A takes Character B for a picnic in their childhood treehouse because it is so meaningful.
> 
> Okay, hi! So I hope that this fic goes over well. It is my _first_ non-Dramione fic and it's probably the fluffiest thing I've ever written. I couldn't escape all the angst, so it made it's way into the beginning. But this is basically one big fluff ball with a sprinkling of smut. I do hope you enjoy. I agonized over this for a long time before just throwing something together.
> 
> Thank you to [Caitlincheri2](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caitlincheri28) for looking this over.
> 
> Also, I hope you enjoy the drawing I put together for it. :)

Valentine's Day - a holiday Hermione Jean Granger had, at one time, utterly abhorred. Though today, she couldn't stop herself from fidgeting with excitement over the prospect of her date mere moments away. Her teenage years hadn't been kind to her on the day of Faunus' festival, but this year, none of that mattered. This year, she had Charlie Weasley.

They'd been dating for nearly six months now - well, seriously dating, anyway - and he still came to her door each Friday evening to pick her up. She'd mentioned it on their first date, how she thought he'd been an utter gentleman to not merely Floo into her flat unannounced, how she'd always wanted someone to pick her up with a bundle of flowers and a happy smile.

The one vase she'd taken from her parents' house hadn't sat empty on her hearth after that night. Each of their weekly dates, always on Friday at 8:00 p.m. but never the same adventure, he'd shown holding a new bundle of bulbs. He would replace those that sat, still fresh, in her mother's floral vase as she finished readying herself. 

Readying for what, she wasn't really sure. Charlie didn't care about makeup or hairdos and claimed he cared little about what she wore, as well. And it was more than apparent he'd like her in just about any form. Charlie had seen her at her ultimate worst, during the war and the challenging year that followed. There had been countless times he found her wandering The Burrow grounds or nestled onto the picnic bench, crying.

The first time he'd stumbled upon her, he'd sat until her tears had dried, noiselessly fiddling with his fingers and the frayed edges of his leather jacket. Although he spoke no words, his warmth had helped the stagnate, persistent dread that she'd felt after returning from Australia without her parents. After she learned of their deaths.

She'd thanked him, scarcely above a whisper, before disappearing to Ginny's room for the remainder of the evening without waiting for his response. He'd been gone the next morning, back to the dragon sanctuary in Romania. But surprisingly, he'd left her a note. He hadn't written anything dramatic, no overt fanfare, but it had been endearing. He'd urged her to write should she need an open ear, that he understood what it was like to lose someone close.

She'd remained at The Burrow for a time after that while she set her parents' affairs in order, cleaning out their house before selling it and the office building where they'd held their dental practice. When their home finally sold, she'd shed countless tears. Harry and Ron hadn't been there, Auror training taking them into solitude when all she had wanted was to be with her best friends. And try as she might, Ginny hadn't been able to soothe the steady pang Hermione had felt.

When all else had failed, she'd picked up her quill and sought the comfort of Charlie's words. His notes had returned meager at first, so much so that she'd thought herself an annoyance in his life. But after a week of non-response, he'd penned a letter just to make sure she was in good health. The geniality she'd felt at his regard had warmed her heart. Knowing that he didn't see her sharing her burdensome heartache as unbecoming or unfair had made her smile, and she'd sent Pigwidgeon back with a reply immediately.

Their letters extended throughout her eighth year. Hermione spent numerous evenings studying his ever-growing accounts, doing nothing to quell the smiles that worked across her lips as she read. She'd suggest books for him to read, and he'd do so in return.  _ Dragon's of the Eastern Highlands  _ hadn't necessarily been high on her list of favorites, but she'd read it nonetheless.

It wasn't until Christmas three years ago, nearly five years after his first letter, that she'd recognized the magnitude of her emotions and what his companionship all those years had meant. Whatever she'd thought she and Ronald would share had fizzled out mere moments after the Battle of Hogwarts. But Hermione had understood, as Charlie sat beside her on Christmas Eve like he did every year - with an arm slung about her on the back of the couch and his nearness making her heart beat faster - that she hadn't genuinely liked Ronald to begin with. At least not romantically.

No. She'd never felt a bubble of happiness in her heart when Ron smiled at her, eyelids low and reassuring as an effortless smile upturned his lips. She'd never felt the rush of nerves when he had winked at her or laughed at one of her jokes. Hadn't thought his eyes sparkled like the sun's rays on the still waters of a crystal blue lake or felt her breath catch when he sat beside her.

No, all of that had only happened when Charlie Weasley was near.

He was unknowingly smart, though he didn't flaunt it. He read to himself, unlike Percy, sharing many favorite authors with Hermione herself. Charlie was quiet, like Bill, but had a streak of brashness in him like the twins. He was just as loyal as Ron and had a touch of his sister's firey, passionate temper.

She loved to watch him talk of the dragons at his sanctuary and adored the affection that shined in his eyes over each one, even those that had maimed him. He was captivating, and down to his essence, Charlie was everything Hermione had hoped for in a man. Everything she'd dreamed of as she'd imagined the prince rescuing her from a dragon-guarded tower. Everything she'd hoped for in a partner, who also came with a family that she loved just as sincerely.

And Hermione had thought he was as close to perfect as any man could be. Even before seeing him playing Quidditch with his shirt off one evening two summers back at the Weasley's homemade pitch. Ginny hadn't been able to contain her laughter as their conversation had come to an abrupt end, Hermione's attention slipping unmistakably onto the not so pale, much tanner than his siblings, scared and freckled chest of the second oldest Weasley son.

Then New Year's Eve had wandered around and with it, his arms encircling her waist. He'd held her close and kissed her with a sweetness she'd never forget. Toe-curling sweetness, lips barely brushing together before both leaned in and closed the frustrating gap. 

She hailed that night as the genuine beginning of  _ them _ , but it had taken another eight months for him to ask her on a date. She'd accepted, eagerly yet nervously, and that first night had been one of the best she'd ever had. And now, six months later, here she sat, dusting on a light layer of blush, even if he didn't mind her face bare, awaiting his knock on the front door.

A rapping so delicate she almost couldn't hear it reverberated from her humble sitting room, making a bashful smile span her countenance. Hermione spritz on a dash of the perfume he seemed like the most, gave herself one last glance in the mirror, and headed for the front door, shoes in hand. Slipping on her coat, she hurried toward the entryway only to inhale thrice to calm herself.

He was leaning against the frame as she threw open the door, an affectionate smile on his face as he scanned the sleek lines of the black dress she'd chosen for tonight. Try as he might to say he cared little over what attire she wore, it was apparent he had an affinity for her in outfits that showed her figure's curves.

"Hello, Charlie," Hermione beamed, eyeing the new bouquet of flowers in his hand.

"Hello, love. You look... very beautiful." Charlie's grin was as wide as Hermione's as she stepped aside, allowing him entrance. 

He made it less than two steps before leaning in and pressing his lips against hers. It was quick, a greeting to which Hermione had grown entirely accustomed. Sweetly, he peppered three chaste kisses to her lips and stepped back with a wink. Hermione only snickered as he headed toward her mother's vase. She watched him replace her flowers as she sank into a chair to pull on her kitten heels.

Hermione tittered lightly as he turned. "You look rather handsome yourself."

"Thanks, I showered," he roared, breaking open the intimate tension with a joke so effortless it made Hermione snort from laughter.

She stood, shoes latched and ready for whatever adventure awaited her tonight. And in three smooth steps, Charlie crossed the room, sliding his arms around her waist to pull her in close. Their bodies melded as if fashioned to fit together by the stars, and Hermione sighed, leaning back to gaze up at him. He was tall, undeniably. There were times when even pushing onto the tips of her toes couldn't make their lips touch.

He engulfed her, strong arms offering security she so graciously accepted. His hand trailed up her side as her hands shifted onto his chest. Hermione closed her eyes and leaned into the affection he offered as he cupped her cheek. A calloused thumb smoothed along her skin before swiping across her lips. And a moment later, his mouth pressed against hers.

This kiss was different, more demanding. Charlie was still just as compassionate as he was every other day, but the tightening of his grip on her hip as their lips rolled together was intoxicating. Their kiss lingered for a moment, not long enough in Hermione's book, before he pulled back, gazing down at her in his arms.

"I need to put this on you," Charlie smirked, a lopsided smile of which she'd never grow tired.

But Hermione's breath caught in her throat as he slipped a thin piece of black fabric from his pocket. Her eyes were glued to his hand as they widened slightly, excitement rolling in her gut. They'd never, well... Never shared one another's embrace before, but the sight of the torn black fabric made her heart race regardless. It's not like she hadn't thought about it. Believe her, she'd imagined it countless times, her vibrator an easy testament to her languid nights envisioning what his calloused fingers would feel like against her nipples. But they'd never really gotten close.

But that didn't stop her heart from hammered as he chuckled, much too huskily to keep her knickers dry, and dropped her waist. "Is the blindfold okay, love?"

Hermione nodded, eyes glued to his hand as he snickered again. The overwhelming musk of him seared into her senses, sending a tingle down her spine as he stepped around her, pulling her back against his chest. The fabric was cool against the shallow of her eyes as the room went dark and the cloth taught about her head.

"Where-" she murmured, but it came out scarcely above a whisper, and she tried to clear her throat covertly. "Where are we going?"

"I thought the blindfold would be enough to tell you it's a secret," he chuckled, slid his arms around her waist to pull her closer, and rested his chin on her shoulder. "But I can assure you, you'll love it."

Hermione tried to suppress the shudder she felt tremble up her spine at the soft yet unwavering tone of his voice. She could only nod as he held her, caged in and safe, his figure nearly engulfing her.

"Ready?" He whispered, and she had to contain yet another wave of want that washed over her figure.

"Yes," she breathed behind what she hoped wasn't an audible gulp.

In an instant, her world spun. She hated Apparition but being nestled in Charlie's arms always seemed to make it easier. When their feet met the solid ground, Hermione shivered. Outside. They were most assuredly outdoors in the near-freezing dead of winter. Trembling, she sank back into the warmth that his brawny arms offered, listening for any sounds that could give away their location. Yet nothing registered other than the static of rustling trees and the faint chirp of birds that had not yet migrated to warmer weather.

"Where are we?"

"It's a surprise," he laughed anew, slipping his arms from around her waist before dropping a hand to her back, guiding her forward.

Earth crunched under their footsteps. Outdoors, and definitely not in a paved local if the slow sinking of her heels offered any insight. But where in Godric's name could he have brought her? Her mind raced through their conversations and letters over the past month, but nothing stood out as a conspicuous location.

Charlie guided her for only a moment more, sliding his hand around her hip to pull her to a stop. He stepped in behind her again, one arm sliding around her middle to pull her in close.

"Are you ready?"

"For what, exactly?"

"Relax, love, I told you that you'll love this." Hermione didn't move, and Charlie's hands came to her shoulders, kneading lightly. She had to stifle a soft whimper. "Relax."

She inhaled a few times, trying to listen for clues that weren't there, relishing the feel of her firm hands massaging away her concern.

"Ready?"

She only nodded in response, anticipation bubbling as his finger trailed up her nape, fiddling with the dangling straps of fabric. Hermione closed her eyes, for what she wasn't sure, and breathed deeply as the cloth fell away. And when her eyes opened, her heart nearly stopped. Hot tears sprang from her eyes instantaneously as her sights landed on something she'd long ago lost hope of owning.

Before her, sitting in a high, sturdy tree, was a treehouse. She thought perhaps one day she'd be able to recreate it for her own children in the backyard of whatever cottage she and her future husband purchased. But here it sat, an almost perfect replica of the treehouse her father had built her for her fifth birthday.

She couldn't find words to speak, a lump in her throat larger than it had been in years. She shook softly as tears shifted down her cheeks.

"I remember you talking about this in your letters," Charlie whispered, his hands sliding to rest across her stomach. His soft voice reverberated around Hermione as he nuzzled into her neck. "I didn't think I'd ever get the chance, but things just worked out this year."

"Oh, Charlie," she whispered, voice cracking as tears continued to tumble from her eyes. "It's…"

Words couldn't describe how she felt. Elated. Shocked. Impressed. But she wanted to show Charlie the wave of emotion that rolled in her gut, her mind. So Hermione turned in his arms, sliding her hands up his chest. Eagerly, she pushed onto her toes to lock their lips in a kiss he was more than ready for. He lifted her effortlessly from the ground, Hermione pressing her lips to his with all the passion she could muster. He groaned softly when her tongue swiped along the seam that kept her from genuinely expressing her gratitude. His hold on her tightened as their tongues danced.

Kissing Charlie was as effortless as breathing, each caress of their lips like a spark in Hermione's soul. They let their embrace explode in a rush of emotion, Hermione's hands slipping into his shoulder-length, sun-kissed auburn locks with a tight grip. One of his hands dropped to her arse, gripping and pulling her impossibly close as their languid yet fervent kiss spanned minutes. Minutes that turned her knickers to a useless pool of desire.

When she pulled back, both were panting in the cold, breaths clouding between them as they chuckled, gazing into each other's eyes with definitive love.

"This is the nicest thing that anyone has ever done for me. How... How did you even know what it looked like?"

"I can't take all the credit," he responded faintly above a whisper, the flame of passion shining in his eyes as he lowered her to the ground. "Bill helped with the charm work, Ron helped fly it here."

"Wait…" Hermione murmured, face scrunching as she dropped back onto the soles of her shoes. "What are you saying? Are you... are you saying this  _ is  _ my treehouse?"

"Yes," A broad smile, bordering on an overly pleased smirk, spread across his lips in the high moonlight, and Hermione could see a proud glint in his eye. "It's yours."

"Mine?" She whispered, voice cracking again. "You're saying this is  _ my  _ treehouse?" She echoed for confirmation. Charlie only nodded in response, and Hermione felt unable to breathe anew. "H… How? I sold the house to muggles years ago…"

"They moved about a week ago. We planted a new tree to replace it. Bill and Ron helped fly it here. The muggles might think they're going mad if they go back, but," he shrugged softly. "I hope this makes you happy."

"Happy?" Hermione echoed with a watery chuckle. "Charlie, I am over the moon."

Charlie brought a thumb to her cheek to tenderly brush away stray tears. "This was only the first part of your surprise tonight, Hermione. Would you like to go inside?"

"Inside? I don't think we'd fit. I barely fit at thirteen. I might but you -"

"I am a wizard," he interjected with a wink. "Just trust me."

"I trust you, implicitly."

"Then let's go."

Hermione nodded with another deep inhale, turning in Charlie's arms to gaze over  _ her  _ treehouse once again. She had very few things to remember her parents' bye, and it had never felt like enough. Hermione hadn't been able to live in her childhood home after their deaths but had regretted selling the moment her name was endorsed on the solid line. 

But this? This... Well, this was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for her. This made her heart sing with a pleasure that she hadn't felt in a very long time. And it wasn't just one person that loved her enough to make it happen, but ten.

His hand fell to her back anew, urging her forward. Fortunately, Charlie, and the countless people who had helped him, had built a sturdier staircase. She was sure her shaking knees wouldn't have made it up the rope ladder her father had installed. The balusters upon her new stairs were lined with twinkling fairy lights, illuminating the trail up to the sparkling balcony. It was genuinely enchanting. But not as captivating as walking through a doorway she'd longed to see again.

The inside of her childhood treehouse had been expanded. The extension enchantment was evident, but it did little to diminish the charm written in every notch of worn, reddish wood. The warmth of the timber brought forth memories of her and her mother hunched beside one another for tea parties, making her want to cry anew. She'd have to thank Bill when she saw him next because he'd truly helped create one of her dreams in real life.

A small fire roared in a new fireplace on the right, washing the room with a red radiance that made everything seem bewitching. Hermione asked if everything was charmed with a fire repelling charm as she wandered further in, attempting to laugh away her joyous tears. A door sat to the right, slightly ajar, just enough to show a newly minted loo. Honestly, they should get awards for this spellwork.

A support column still sat at the center of the room, leading up to a canopied roof that they'd enchanted to show a sparkling night sky. Hermione paced toward it with purpose and wanted to sink to her knees in nostalgic tears as her sights roamed over the timber. Her measurements from childhood, age five to the time she couldn't stand straight, were still etched in the worn wood. She and her parents' initials remained carved beside each notch as an attestation to her height. Hermione was tired of crying tonight, but the scene brought forth a fresh swell of emotion, and with it, tears.

Charlie cleared his throat, stepping up to lean against the pole, arms crossed over his chest. "Hungry?"

"Hungry?" Hermione echoed waterly, glancing up at him.

He flicked his head over his shoulder, and Hermione followed the path. In the center of the tiny room sat a picnic blanket that she'd somehow overlooked, the torn, tattered edges a Weasley special. But on top of the tartan blanket rested a scrumptious looking meal. Wines, cheeses, a steaming pile of cakes that Hermione knew to be Molly Weasley's handiwork and her handiwork alone, and sides sat under a stasis charm.

"I know for certain you didn't cook this," Hermione chuckled through the tears watering her lower lid.

"I did not," he affirmed, echoing her mirth. "Mum may have helped."

"Did every Weasley have a hand in this?"

"Even Pansy, surprisingly enough. She complained to Percy the entire day, but she and Ginny helped decorate the place. Harry got the permits from the Ministry to move the tree. George was here, so I'm sure there's a prank lying in wait somewhere. And well," he continued with a chuckle, pointing to an old television set in the corner. "Dad put that in here, but I doubt it will work."

"I can't believe this," Hermione beamed brightly, stepping around Charlie toward the tartan throw.

She glanced over her shoulder to watch him remove his worn leather jacket, biceps rippling as he shimmied it from his shoulders. He caught her watching, offering only a wink as he threw the coat down onto a bedded area that Hermione had also overlooked. Her cheeks flamed at how inviting the mattress looked, stocked with enough pillows and blankets for a small army.

Charlie wandered to her side, helping her from her coat and offering a hand to assist her to the floor. Before he sat, he pulled a champagne bottle from a metal bucket of ice and popped the cork, filled two cups, and handed her one before sinking beside her on the blanket. He sprawled some, leaning back on a hand as he stretched his legs out before him.

"Where are we, anyway?" Hermione sought, sipping her bubbling champagne from her plastic cup and wiping away lingering moisture on her cheeks. "I didn't see anything other than this tree when we were outside."

"The Burrow."

His quiet chuckle joined hers as she scooted closer into him, pressing her thigh firmly against his own. She sat taller than him at that moment, gazing down at him over her shoulder. He shifted slightly, and she welcomed the soft stroke of his fingers dancing up her spine, down her shoulder, and over the open expanse of her arm. He was silent for a time, gazing into the fire as she took in his profile.

"It doesn't have to stay here forever," he murmured unobtrusively, and Hermione could see the pronounced bob of his Adam's apple. "...I imagine if we ever get a place where we'd like to stay, we can move it there."

_ Get a place.  _ **_We_ ** _ get a place. _

"Get a place? You've… you've thought about us living together?"

Charlie turned to her with a melodious, gruff chuckle. "At least twice a week for the past two years. Have you not?"

"I have..." Hermione responded, although her heart was pounding in her ears, and she wasn't sure it was her voice she was hearing. She sat silently for a time, glancing between his affectionate appearance and the swell of the hearth before whispering, "This place is big enough for two people…"

"What's that, beautiful?"

"Uh - I said this place is big enough for two people how it is…" Hermione uttered louder. The words lingered in the air for a moment, a short moment, before she panicked at his stalled response. Rambling, "We could connect the Floo to the Ministry and the sanctuary, and anywhere else. There's already a bed, and I'm sure it wouldn't be hard to add electricity and a kitchen. We're only two people. I mean for now. I mean, not that… I just -"

"Hermione," Charlie cut in with a melodious laugh, gripping her hip where his hand had slipped. He glanced around the treehouse as a grin worked its way back onto his features. "You'd live here?"

"With you? I'd live anywhere," Hermione murmured, feeling the warmth of a blush work across her cheeks. "But living in my childhood treehouse? Well, that's just a dream come true," she smiled, trying not to shed the tiny tears prickling at the corners of her eyes.

He was sitting straight in an instant, and Hermione shuddered at the hand that wandered over her arm. Charlie's fingers slid deftly across her jaw seconds later before he brushed a soft thumb over her cheek. He looked utterly divine, longing and love for her washed in every line of his face, his eyes searing into hers as his hand traveled down her neck. She drifted into the feeling of him, his warmth, his love, letting her eyes slip shut with anticipation.

His lips against hers were tender, delicate, speaking volumes for the passion that passed between them. It was easy to float into him, to part her lips and let him in. Their tongues danced again, leisurely yet eagerly. Zealously driving desire down her spine as his now free hand slid around her waist to draw her closer.

But he pulled back, nudging her nose with his, well before Hermione was ready.

"We should eat…"

Hermione's eyes were still closed as she whispered, "I don't care about food right now."

The thick growl he let out almost sounded as if a dragon had wandered through the small doorway. Everything after that happened so suddenly it left her breathless. The cup being hoisted from her hand. Being pulled upward before firm hands grasped her arse. Being lifted, her legs seeking a home around his middle as their tongues met anew.

They were on the small mattress, bathed in the soft glow of the hearth before Hermione's eyes opened. He'd slid onto the bed with skill, drawing her into his lap. Charlie's hands were like trails of fire walking along her frame, exploring her body. He was eager, but Hermione could tell that he was trying his hardest not to be overly so. He was being... Sweet, passionate. All the things he was on any other day. All the things Hermione had hoped he'd be the first time they made love.

Hermione slid her hands up his torso, leaning in to kiss him as they wandered around his neck. And he whimpered. Charlie Weasley, manly man, dragon tamer, actually  _ whimpered  _ under her touch. A whimper that sent another wave of want washing down her spine, crashing into her slickening core, dampness budding along the folds of her lower lips.

His grip tightened on her arse when she nibbled his bottom lip, hesitantly at first but keenly at his response. They'd kissed before, gods had they kissed before, but this was different. This was heated, somewhat frantic, but hesitant and shy all at once. When she tried to pull back, one of his hands loosened on her arse and skimmed up her figure to cup her neck, to hold her in place. 

His sparkling blue eyes searched hers at that second, and she knew she sought consent. Questioned if she was ready for more than they'd been before this moment. Hermione merely ran her hands down his chest, pulling the frayed edges of his shirt into her hands. 

He willingly lifted his arms when she pushed his shirt up his chest, and Hermione tugged it off with a soft chuckle. He was already beaming up at her when his head emerged. Grinning with a fire so molten burning in his eyes as he gripped arse and pulled her further down. Down into him. 

Her dress wasn't meant to be pulled off over her head, but he'd managed it. Frankly, he could have shredded the thing, her want to feel his calloused fingers run along her skin outweighing the need to keep her clothing from tatters. He hissed before her head emerged, and when she looked back at him, it wasn't hard to savor the way he drank in the blemished, tawny skin of her exposed frame.

His eyes roamed the red lace bra she'd chosen just for tonight. She hadn't expected to make it this far, or perhaps she had.

"Charlie," Hermione murmured, voice throatier than she'd heard it in ages. "Charlie, kiss me." 

And he did just that, lips seeking hers in a kiss so overwhelming her body alighted with desire. Their kisses were gentle, loving, yet playful, as he ran a hand smoothly up her back and unclasped her bra, drawing it down her shoulders as their kisses intensified. Fire. Passion. That's what sparkled in his eyes as he leaned back and let his greedy gaze roved the generous curves of her breasts.

A fire that he peppered down her neck, lips soft yet compelling as he kissed his way to her bust. Hermione's fingers trembled as he ran his tongue along her skin, and she groaned a delicately moan as he took her nipple between his lips, scraping his teeth along the sensitive peak.

Suddenly, she felt as though she was falling. Charlie was swift, skillfully flipping her until her back met the mattress and her legs fell wide. Beckoning him in.

She flinched with a muffled giggle as his lips connected with her thigh, bouncing between them with a grin. And why she felt so shy when he slipped two fingers into the waistband of her knickers, eyes flicking to hers seeking approval, she wasn't sure. But her shuddered breath led the way for her nod of consent. He smirked, actually  _ smirked _ , as he pulled them down, the musky scent of her enthusiasm saturating the air.

When his lips kissed the top of her slit, slow and precise, the tease of his wet tongue sliding between them, she couldn't help but moan, bucking slightly. Her fingers tingled with anticipation, threading through auburn locks she loved so dearly as he flicked his tongue against her clit. Once, twice, and then his mouth found its home, tongue whirling around her sensitive nub in concise strokes. She wanted to call out his name, to plead as a pleasure bubbled deep inside her, but she could only manage moans as her lips parted.

He worked her clit with an expertise that left her breathless and quivering. Though, it didn't stop her cry of bliss as one of his fingers slid through the dampness of her cunt, coating it before it slowly, titillatingly, slipped inside. His digit worked in tandem with his tongue, curling just so to make her toes crunch. And when he removed it, her whimper died into a raucous moan as two thrusts back in.

Charlie praised her femininity, right up until he thrust her off the edge of bliss into unimaginable oblivion. His name fell like a mantra from her lips as his fingers curled and thrust. As his tongue swirled and his teeth nibbled. It was as brief as it was pleasurable, but nothing compared to the weight of his figure against hers as he shifted atop her, aligning their centers.

She hadn't seen him slip out of the rest of his clothing. But he hovered over her nonetheless, massive and all-consuming. Eye to eye, heart to heart, soul to soul, they laid together, Hermione's hands caressing his cheek. His lips pressing upon hers with so much emotion she nearly cried.

He was gentle, so tender, as the tip of his manhood caressed her slit. But Hermione was beyond gentle. Greedily she wrapped her legs around him and drew him close. He laughed, the timbre huskier, darker than she'd ever heard. And both groaned as he slid inside her, rocking his hips until he was fully sheathed in her warmth.

He was still for a moment, forehead falling to hers, lips caressing hers anew before he moved, drawing out and deliberately, teasingly thrusting back in.

Enjoyment hummed in Hermione's veins as they slowly fucked one another, a sweetness in their crusade making moans fill the air. Gradually their movements quickened, her hips meeting his deep thrusts with every stroke, turning frantic and needy. One stroke became two. Two strokes became four. And before she could no longer think straight, unintelligible swears were tumbling past her lips as her fingers quivered, sinking into the sensitive flesh of his back anew.

And suddenly, Hermione's entire body tensed, nails sinking deeply into Charlie's shoulders as she plunged over the cliff again. It didn't take long for his throes of ecstasy to follow, erupting in a deep growl as he emptied himself into her fluttering center. Their worlds shattered in tandem, melding together in a swirl of unmitigated lust and unbridled love. 

His arms shook around her as he half-collapsed, head falling into the crook of her neck and arms finding their place around her. He was heavy, but it was soothing. Warm. Comforting in a way that really nothing else could manage. They laid together while their breathing slowed, Charlie's soft growls washing against her skin as she ran her fingernails down his back, over his arms.

"I love you, Charlie Weasley."

He righted quickly with another  _ smirk _ , kissing her cheek before scrambling to pull his jeans onto the bed.

"Charlie, what-"

"Hang on," he murmured, and Hermione's voice fell flat as he rifled with his pockets. "Got it."

Breathless. Hermione was utterly breathless when Charlie turned back wearing a bright grin and holding a thin rose gold engagement band, decorated with vines that almost perfectly matched her wand. Tears sprang into her eyes instantly as he leaned onto a forearm and pulled her left hand into his.

"I love you, Hermione Jean Granger," he announced freely, eyes meeting hers with a softness that made the tears slip from her eyes. "And it would be the honor of my life to be able to call you my wife. Will you-"

"Yes," Hermione blurted, and they both laughed, her through joyful tears and him through utter elation. "Yes, Charlie, I will marry you."

Another kiss, but this one was filled with promise. With what their life could be and would be. With all the emotion that had budded all those years ago and never faded. When he pulled back, he laid his forehead against hers, both wearing elated smiles. 

"A new house, new fiance, and I got shagged? Best Valentine's Day ever."

Charlie roared with laughter, scooping an arm under her back to draw her close. Hermione let her giggling fill the air before their lips met again in a languid, romantic kiss.

  
  



End file.
